[Sniff] : (hands dad a pour without telling him what it is)
Dad : …
Dad : It’s like biting into the bottom of a mushroom. Freshly picked.
[Sniff] : Ew.
Dad : Exactly!
It smells like shame. Sweat, bad decisions, and shame. It tastes like more of the same with just a splash of sugar, almost as if a “thank you very much” is all that needs to be said to the builders of the Great Wall of china. Something tells me that even if I poured a cup of sugar into this glass, nothing would help this medicine to go down.
The nose will instantly take you to Ardbeg-land when you crack the cork. For the peat lovers, this is what heaven smells like. To the rest of us with working palates, this is what deli meat on the verge of turning and “stanky peat” smell like.
On the palate, the first thing you taste is peat. It’s impossible to miss. Like that monster standing behind you as you read this review. The brine salt is the next wave to splash the tongue and for just a microsecond, something sweet tries to peek above the peaty waves. But it’s a hopeless act of desperation. A valiant effort wasted in vain as the tsunami of peat winds up to destroy all tastebuds in its path.
The finish is not unlike the ending of The Notebook. If you’re a peat lover, you’re probably the typical woman weeping in joy over the love she’s just witnessed. If you’re an anti-aficionado of the peat, you’re probably feeling more like a guy who hates rom-coms. You’re also crying but those are real tears of shame and sadness.
So how can I bring a positive light to this dram?
Well, honesty it doesn’t hold a candle to the few peated offerings that I do enjoy. Laphroaig Triple Wood and Ardbeg Dark Cove have less peat and are 673,284 times more enjoyable. They actually suffer from a wonderful issue called “balance”. lol. If you fancy the typical Speysider, you’ll enjoy those two offerings. Even the Lagavulin 16 lacks what destructive force this bottle contains.
Which makes sense.
They didn’t name it “The Peat Monster” for nothing.
Enjoy it at your own risk.